


Raise a Glass

by EmberLeo



Series: The Emberquizzy Chronicles [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, All relationships are background, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demisexual Inquisitor, Drinking Games, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Innuendo, M/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Mourning, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Ridiculousness, Rituals, Self-Insert, Sortof, pagan inquisitor, post-Adamant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 02:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17337266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberLeo/pseuds/EmberLeo
Summary: After Adamant, the Inner Circle needs time to celebrate, and mourn.And get really, really drunk.





	1. Drucking Funk

**Author's Note:**

> I am Not-A-Standard-Example-of-Humanity, and thought "wouldn't it be hilarious if someone like me got sucked into being the Inquisitor?" so I dove headlong into a ridiculous, fluffy self-insert MGIT fic that is already over 160k words long, and not quite done yet. (I will probably need beta readers who know Thedas but not me, to help me make it coherent! If you're interested, let me know in comments!)
> 
> In an effort to make it more readable for folks who don't know me, I'm pulling some of the tangents out into stand-alone fics.
> 
> This is the second of them.
> 
> The first is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304113/chapters/40700657
> 
> Comments are always welcome, including concrit if I've been confusing anywhere with the self-insert bits. (That's part of what I'm trying to fix up!)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -E-

I stepped through the rotunda door into the great hall, and was immediately caught by Varric.

“Pipes!” He greeted me with enthusiasm, “Just the woman I wanted to see!”

“Varric!” I replied, flustered, “Just the man I expected to see, standing right here, where you always do!”

He grinned. “Hawke wanted to have dinner with you - with us - before she leaves.”

“She’s leaving already?” I pouted.

“She doesn’t want to leave Anders with Fenris for too long,” he explained, apologetically.

“I thought she had her sister and your Rivaini friend watching him?”

“Oh, they are, but that’s half the problem right there. Bethany is arguably the sanest of the lot, and she’s a Warden too, after all.”

“Riiight. Well, okay, yeah, I just have an errand or two to run, and then I’m free. Let’s do it.”

“Excellent! I told her we’d meet her in the Herald’s Rest in an hour.”

“How did you know I wouldn’t be busy?”

“I bribed Josephine, of course,” he quipped. Provided he used hot cocoa, that was entirely plausible, though probably unnecessary. She’d ensured that we all had the whole day off after our return from Adamant.

\-----

I crossed the courtyard to the tavern. The Iron Bull and his chargers cheered my entrance. “Boss!” he shouted, “Join us! We’re getting drunk!”

“What else is new, Bull!” I shouted back.

“Nah, this is different. Fucking Fade, fucking  _ demons _ , we’re getting FUCKING DRUNK!” Bull roared. Well, all right then. I caught Krem’s eye, noticing that he was, as usual, the most sober of the group. I raised my eyebrows, meaningfully. He nodded to me, pursing his lips and closing his eyes briefly. I nodded back, reassured. Krem was a good man, and an excellent lieutenant. He would keep an eye on my bodyguard, and the rest of his crew.

I climbed the stairs to find Hawke and Varric. They had a small table tucked in a corner, and they were sitting opposite each other, an empty space on the benches beside each of them. Sera was sitting on the table, telling some kind of outlandish story as Varric and Hawke laughed. She was clearly tipsy, and kept eyeing Hawke meaningfully. That would be interesting. Sera isn’t exactly subtle. I can’t imagine Hawke didn’t notice, but if she was responding in kind, it didn’t show in her body language yet.

Hawke spotted me first, as I came around the bannister, and Sera followed her gaze to see what had distracted the target of her blatant flirting. “Quizzie-pants!” Sera shouted, “Just what we need, another scary redhead!” Varric covered his face with one hand, laughing too hard to make sound, as Hawke rolled her eyes.

"Hello, Sera. You wouldn’t be trying to get into our honored guest’s pants, would you?” I asked, mock-sternly.

“S’right I am!” Sera laughed, and then pouted, “Not really, though. She’s in deep with someone else.”

I nodded solemnly, “I think you may be right. Perhaps you should just give her your blessing and move on.”

Sera blew a raspberry at me, “Psh! You’re no fun,  _ un _ -quisitor,” she complained, and then hopped off the table. She rose up on her toes to plant a messy kiss on my cheek, and then swatted my hip. She’d been aiming for my butt, but I dodged, giving her a _ look _ . Then she walked erratically to her room, her arms out for balance like she was crossing a tightrope. Badly.

I shook my head, fondly, and then slid onto the bench next to Hawke.

“Thank you for the timely rescue, Ember,” Hawke greeted me, smiling. “Although I’m not sure I can honestly say I’m still _ in  _ love with Anders,” she added, sardonically.

I raised my eyebrows. “What makes you think I meant Anders?” I replied. She flushed, pointedly  _ not _ looking at Varric.  _ Uh-huh _ .

“Besides, there’s no rule that says you have to only be in love with one person at a time,” I shrugged.

“Oh  _ really _ ?” Varric said, leaning towards me. “Do tell, Pipes.”

“Haven’t I told you before, Varric? I have two partners and a lover waiting for me back home.”

“You’ve mentioned partners at various times, and a lover, but I wasn’t sure from the way you’ve said it if the lover was one of the partners, or if the partners were business partners, or what. After all, I wouldn’t want to  _ presume _ .”

Hawke snorted, “Since when?”

“Huh, I never thought of that.” I mused, “Am I getting away with more than I thought, then? People think I run a business back home instead of living in sin? Not that it’s a sin in my religion, mind you.”

“Your religion?” Hawke asked, interested.

“Long story. Has Varric explained my background?”

“Not much, no. He only said you weren’t from around here, and that he wasn’t at liberty to say more.”

“Well, yes, that’s definitely true, as far as it goes.”

“So where are you from?”

“I’m not at liberty to tell you!” I laughed, “At least, not here. If you really want to know, we’ll have to get dinner sent up to my suite.”

“You’re inviting us into your bedroom right after explaining that you have multiple lovers waiting for you back home?” Varric exclaimed, laughing, “I didn’t know you had it in you, Pipes!”

“Oh shut up, Varric. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Even if you did, I’d have to decline. You’re not my type.”

_ “Really _ ,” I replied, dryly, eyeing Hawke. “I’m guessing you have a  _ very _ narrow type, then.” Her red hair was much shorter than mine, and her roguish frame narrower, more athletic, but that hadn’t stopped people from admiring the resemblance between us - and Leliana - usually in the process of hitting on any of us. Especially the Iron Bull. Not that it was likely to  _ work  _ on any of us, but at least the comparison was complimentary.

“Haven’t you heard? He’s a one-crossbow man,” Hawke said, smirking.

“Bianca, yes, I’ve met her.”  Hawke raised her eyebrows. I raised mine briefly, and gave a sly smile.

“Right! Well, I have some letters to write,” Varric said, suddenly, rising from his seat. Hawke and I stood up from our seats, and leaned forward, each placing a hand on one of his shoulders, and shoving him back down into his chair. He threw up his hands, laughing. “Fine! Be like that. I know when I’m outvoted.”

Hawke sat back down, picking up her tankard.

I settled one hip on the table, and gestured to their drinks. “Finish them, and we’ll go eat in my room. We can talk more freely there, and besides, I’m expected to honor our more esteemed guests with tea and cakes and a peek behind the curtain.” I frowned, “Is there no way to say that that  _ doesn’t  _ sound wrong?”

Varric laughed.

\-----

“Boss, BOSS!” the Iron Bull was roaring in the courtyard. He didn’t sound alarmed, though, just thoroughly sloshed. “INQUISITOR!”

I waved down from my tower balcony, and shouted back, “You’re drunk, Bull! Go to bed!”

“INQUISITOR! I got a question for you!” he bellowed again. Krem was patting Bull’s arms, ineffectively, trying to convince his chief to stop disturbing the entirety of Skyhold. I could hear muttering down in the garden, and laughter from various parts of the upper courtyard.

“Stop shouting and come up here, you great doof!” I ordered, laughing.

“RIGHT!” Bull roared, cheerfully, only to be shushed by a dozen random people, and Krem. They started stumbling towards the great hall, Bull’s huge arm around Krem’s much narrower shoulders. I could hear Krem snarking, but not the words.

After a time, there was a surprisingly polite knock on the door to my suite. I walked down the stairs, half expecting to find the Iron Bull on the floor. Instead, he was draped on Krem’s shoulders. Krem looked at me apologetically. “One drunk Qunari, as requested, Inquisitor.”

I grinned, “Thank you Krem. Help me get him up the stairs?”

“Nah, I’ve got him. Anywhere in particular I should put him?”

“The desk chair is fairly sturdy, I think,” I suggested. Varric and Hawke were occupying the couch in front of the fireplace, her slender human frame draped amiably over Varric’s stocky dwarven shoulders. The bed was very solid, but I feared it would be difficult to get him back out of it if he passed out, and I wasn’t sure how confused the Iron Bull would be if he woke up in my bed later, whether or not I was in it. Nevermind what anybody  _ else _ would think if he stayed the night!

“Here you go, Chief,” Krem groaned, leaning the larger man into the chair. “The Boss will take care of you now.” He started to head for the door.

“Oh, you don’t have to leave, Krem. We’re all just talking.” I looked towards Varric and Hawke for confirmation. They both nodded amiably.

Krem looked around at each of us, hesitant, only to shrug and settle down on a pillow near the fireplace. “What’re you drinking?”

“Bad ale, and decent wine, mostly. Pipes prefers mead. You seem pretty sober for a guy who has been keeping up with  _ him _ all night,” Varric waved towards the Iron Bull. “Try some of this.” He held out a flask towards the Tevinter mercenary.

Krem took the flask and sniffed it, and then took a swig. “Anise?”

“It’s an Avvar liquor.” Varric explained, “They call it ‘Akavit’. It comes in various flavors, but this is the most common.”

Krem nodded, and took another swig, smiling.

“So, Bull, what did you want to ask me?” I turned to the Qunari draped across my desk.

“Will you teach me to fly?” he asked.

“What?” I laughed, “What makes you think I can teach you to fly, Bull?”

“You can fly, I saw it!”

“That was in the Fade, Bull. Anyone can fly in dreams.”

“So teach me!” He argued.

“I have no idea how to teach that, Bull! Most people just kind of pick it up, right? Don’t you fly in your dreams?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember my dreams much.” He was frowning, as his head slowly drooped down into his arms. Right, he probably had a lot of bad dreams, didn’t he? Wounded Warrior and all. Skyhold should seriously consider converting into a treatment facility for PTSD when all this is over. Gods know most of the current population would qualify.

“Bull,” I began, more seriously, “Why do you want to fly? You hate the weird shit.”

“He just wants to be able to drop on people from above like a ton of boulders,” Krem quipped. Varric and Hawke laughed. I smiled, but it really seemed like something was wrong here.

“Bull?” I tilted my head down, trying to find his face. Had he fallen asleep?

“Dragons!” Bull said, suddenly, lifting his head to look at me, wide-eyed. “If I could fly... think of the dragons!”

Hawke busted up laughing, “You want to fly so you can hunt dragons? I would pay to see that. I’d pay even more to join you!” she added.

“Right!?” Bull nodded enthusiastically. Krem was laughing too hard to take another sip from Varric’s flask. Varric was just leaning back, enjoying the people-watching. I leaned my head down into my hand, not sure if I should laugh or cry.

“You people!” I muttered, “I can’t even.”

“Can’t even what, Boss?” Krem asked.

“It’s a figure of speech, Krem. Like, I’m so overwhelmed, I can’t even finish this sentence.”

“Ahhh,” Krem nodded, understanding. “So what were you all ‘just talking’ about? We didn’t interrupt?”

“Oh, Pipes was just telling us crazy stories from her homeland. You wouldn’t believe most of it, Krem. It’s all weird shit, beginning to end.”

“I wasn’t even telling you the weird shit stories, Varric!” I objected, “It’s not my fault you don’t get it!”

“You come from the land of weirdness, Pipes, embrace it.” Varric laughed.

“He has a point,” Hawke agreed, “I barely understood any of it!”

I pouted. “I tried to translate it as best I could, dammit. I need better stories.”

“No, no, weird is good, Pipes. Stay weird.” Varric’s gestures were expansive, and Hawke was  _ giggling _ .

I’d only had about a glass of mead over the last few hours, with food. Clearly everyone else was sloshed.  _ Oh dear. _

I felt a draft, and heard muttering, and then a thud, and muffled swearing. Sera came up the staircase, about as graceful as we’d left her at the tavern. “What’s all this, then? You’re havin’ fun without me? Can’t be. ‘S no fun without  _ me _ .”

“ _ Oh Sera, won’t you join us? _ ” I replied, mimicking the invitation I hadn’t issued, “It just wouldn’t be the same without our resident elven anarchist.”

“Damn right!” she said, swaying only slightly. For such a small creature, she could hold her liquor surprisingly well.

Far more surprising was Cassandra coming up the stairs shortly after her. “Inquisitor!” she said, breathlessly, “I tried to stop her!”

“You did?” I looked at Cassandra, confused. “Why did you do that?”

“She insisted on intruding!”

“We’re just hanging out, Cassandra, it’s not a big deal. Join us.”

“You’re certain?” she seemed surprised.

“You may as well, at this rate. It might be nice to not be the only relatively sober person in the room!”

“Very well, then, I will stay, thank you,” she agreed, sounding relieved.

I looked around the room, growing slowly suspicious. How did I end up the impromptu host of half my inner circle? And if it was on purpose somehow, where were the other half?

As if on cue, three more pairs of footsteps clattered up my stairs. Okay, this had to be on purpose. I looked at Sera, raising an eyebrow. She grinned at me. “I tol’ you, ‘s no fun without me!”

Dorian, Solas, and Cullen emerged from the stairwell. Dorian was carrying a bottle of Antivan wine. Solas looked surprisingly relaxed. Cullen looked around the room, his expression uncertain, a wineskin in one hand.

“So she wasn’t lying, Inquisitor… Ember?” he corrected himself, “Sera told us you wanted everyone to meet you here, and bring drinks. I wasn’t certain if it was one of her pranks.”

“Oh, it is, but that’s okay. Come on in, everyone. We probably need the party pretty badly if it takes Sera running around in her cups to convince us.”

The door opened again, and feminine voices reached our ears.

“It is certainly unusual for her to invite us all to her suite. If I had known she intended to entertain such groups there, I’d have arranged for more seating.”

“It’s fine, Josie. It’s just a casual gathering. We can sit on the floor.” Leliana sounded downright cheerful.

“I would never ask the First Enchanter to sit on the floor!” Josephine cried, appalled.

“Whyever not, darling?” Vivienne replied, “Many of the best soirees begin with everyone comfortably settled on pillows.”

They, too, emerged from the stairwell, bottles in their hands. Josephine also carried a basket. I could smell butter, yeast and cinnamon. Pastries! I hoped she brought cheese, too. It was getting rather crowded, though.

“Welcome, ladies,” I called, “You may have to sit on the bed, at this rate, but there’s plenty of pillows.”

“I could send for more, Your Worship,” Josephine volunteered.

“Josie, it’s just us. Please call me Ember. And that would be lovely, thank you. We’ll probably need more food than that small basket can hold too, at this rate.” She nodded, and returned down the stairwell to make her arrangements.

I looked around the room, counting. I already knew Scout Harding was out in the field, and if Dagna didn’t arrive with Sera, she probably wasn’t coming at all. I doubted Sera would think to invite Morrigan. So we were only missing Blackwall and Cole.

True to his nature, as soon as I thought about him, Cole appeared. “Straw isn’t black,” he said, apologetically, handing me a small bowl of red berries. I took the bowl, thanking him, and he turned to sit on the edge of my desk, holding onto one of Bull’s horns.  _ Odd. _ It’s not like he needed it for balance.

"So, are we waiting for Blackwall, then?” I asked.

“Couldn’t find him!” Sera replied.

“Oh dear. Well, I hope he doesn’t feel left out or anything.”

“He’s probably hip deep in one of the kitchen wenches!” Bull said. I saw Josephine blush slightly and look down.

I winced, “We didn’t need to know that, Bull. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Boss,” he replied automatically.

“Right. So!” I clapped my hands. Everyone was looking at me. “You’re probably wondering why I called you all here,” I began facetiously, “Well, I didn’t! But since you’re here anyway, let’s celebrate!” I lifted my glass of mead. They each held up a drinking vessel of their choosing, expectantly. “To Skyhold, and the Inquisition, and surviving Adamant. I’m sure there’s more madness to come, but tonight I’m just glad you’re all still with me! Hail!”

They cheered, and drank, and suddenly I realized what we were doing.

\-----


	2. Pour Another Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting drunk is a sophisticated artform.
> 
> Well, for most of them, anyway.

I moved around the room carefully, looking for a likely bottle. Something mostly empty. I found a bottle of wine Varric had brought along earlier, and set it on the mantle. Then I walked over to Varric and Krem.

“Could I talk with you for a moment, on the balcony? I have an idea, and I need your help.”

“Sure, Pipes, anything you need,” Varric agreed. He seemed less drunk now. He helped Krem up from the floor and they both followed, as the others chatted amiably amongst themselves. I explained what I had in mind to the two men, and once they were fairly sure they could follow my lead, we returned to the room, and stood in front of the hearth.

“Okay, everybody, I have an idea!” I called out. The room quieted immediately.

“Is it a drinking game?” Sera piped up.

“Sort of, yes. It’s a ceremony from my home. We take turns toasting different things and people. It can be anything, serious or silly, or even dirty if you want. When you have an idea for a toast, you have to tell me first. Like this:” I turned to Varric, “Mr. Vice, I have a toast to propose.”

“And what is the nature of this toast?” Varric responded, obligingly.

“And now I have to summarize the toast in a way that implies something else, without giving it away, and he has to respond in kind,” I explained, and then turned back to Varric. “It is about  _ the urges of Spring _ .”

Varric turned to Krem, “I believe, Mr. President, that we have a toast to  _ bad decisions _ .”

Krem smirked, and answered back, “We’ve all made a few of those in our lives, haven’t we, Mr. Vice? Very well, I’ll allow it.”

Varric turned back to me, “Make your toast,” he instructed.

I raised my glass, “ _ To flowers in bloom, and those who gather them. May you always have time to stop and smell the roses! _ ” I declared. Krem and Varric took sips. I very pointedly didn’t.

I turned back to the group. “See, I didn’t drink there because I love collecting flowers in the spring, so the toast applies to me.” The more sober in the room nodded, understanding.

“Now, I’m the Vice. You propose your toasts to me. Varric is the President, and Krem here will be the Sergeant, making sure we don’t do anything too stupid. Normally he’d enforce all the rules, but I don’t remember all the rules anyway, so he’s just going to make sure nobody has an empty glass when a toast starts, and nobody gets sick.

“One thing, though,” I continued, “You can’t toast anyone who is dead. Got it?”

“‘S too  _ complicated _ . Just drink!”

“There will be plenty of drinking, Sera, I promise.”

“I believe I understand,” Vivienne volunteered, standing up. “Mr. Vice, I would like to propose a toast.”

“And what is the nature of the toast?” I replied, smiling.

“It is a  _ meditation on the nature of ignorance _ ,” she answered, her chin held high.

I raised an eyebrow, “I believe, Mr. President, that we have a toast to  _ intractable problems _ .”

“A strange choice,” Varric intoned, settling in to his role with flair, “Let us hear this toast.”

“Make your toast,” I nodded to Vivienne.

“ _ To the cretins who stand in the way of the Inquisition! May this be the only honor they receive, _ ” she declared, triumphantly.

“Here here!” I grinned, and took a sip. The others followed suit.

Cullen stood up, clearing his throat. “Mr. Vice, I would like to propose a toast.”

“And what is the nature of the toast?”

“It is…” he paused for a moment, thinking, “a toast to  _ fidelity _ .”

I nodded, solemnly. “Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to  _ lovers left waiting _ .”

Varric’s mouth twitched slightly, but then he smiled expansively, “So there is a reason our Commander is so often _ frustrated _ then? This I have to hear. Go on.”

Cullen gave Varric an annoyed look, only to pause and consider the literal meaning of his words, and shake his head, laughing.

“Make your toast, ser,” I instructed.

Cullen raised his cup, “ _ To our loyal soldiers, scouts, and agents in the field. Without them we are nothing! _ ”

“Hurrah!” everyone agreed, drinking.

The sober half of the room caught on quickly. Unsurprisingly, Vivienne, Leliana, and Dorian had many witty ideas for toasts. As designed, almost all of my companions grew steadily more relaxed and jovial as the evening progressed. There’s no way I can remember all their toasts, but here are the ones I can remember:

“I have a toast  _ Messere _ Vice,” Leliana declared.

“What is the nature of your toast, dear Nightingale?” I asked.

“It is about  _ that which both binds us together, and pulls us apart _ ,” she smiled enigmatically.

“I believe, Mr. President, that she is offering a toast about  _ rope _ ?” I passed on, raising an eyebrow. The Iron Bull barked out a laugh.

“Well, don’t leave us  _ hanging _ ,” Varric replied, smirking, as he and then I gestured to the spymistress.

“ _ To the Grand Game! _ ” she declared, glass raised, “ _ If you’re still alive, you haven’t lost yet! _ ”

“To the Game!” I shouted, and everyone echoed back.

“I believe I have a toast,” Cassandra spoke up. Varric gestured to her to stand.

“And what is the nature of your toast, Seeker?” I asked.

“It is a toast to  _ namesakes _ ,” she replied, carefully.

“Mr. President, I believe the Lady Seeker intends to finally confess her full name to us!”

“Are you entirely certain we have time for this, Mr. Vice?” Varric quipped.

“I admit to being curious, ser.”

“Very well, then, let us hear this toast.”

I nodded to Cassandra.

“ _ To dragons! May we learn well from their mark on this age. _ ”

“TO DRAGONS!” the Iron Bull and Hawke roared in near unison.

“ _ Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it! _ ” I agreed. Poor form, that, but everybody cheered anyway. 

“Might I propose a toast, your g… Messere Vice?” Josephine requested politely.

“Of course you may, Lady Josephine. What is the nature of your toast?”

“It is  _ in honor of… an absent friend _ ,” she concluded.

“Is this friend among the living?” I asked cautiously.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” she blushed slightly. “I do recall your rule, Messere Vice.”

I nodded, smiling. “In that case, Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to  _ our dear bartender, Cabot. _ ”

Varric laughed, “He’s probably relieved we’re not making a mess of the Rest. Let’s hear your toast, Ruffles!”

“ _ To our dear, honorable wardens, who resisted Corypheus’ persuasions. To Stroud and Blackwall!”  _ Josephine announced. Then she looked around at Hawke and Leliana, adding _ , “To Bethany Hawke, Kaigan Cousland, and of course his majesty King Alistair! _ ”

“To the Wardens!” I shouted, grinning, “As if we don’t all know you just wanted to toast Blackwall.”

“To Blackwall!” the others shouted, and we all drank as Josephine blushed. 

\-----

“Mr. Vice, I have a toast for you,” Dorian offered, “about  _ that which rises and falls _ .” Everyone laughed. It was a challenge, because the obvious was  _ way _ too easy.

“Indeed? Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to  _ elaborate hairdos _ .”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Varric laughed, seeing the Iron Bull’s wicked grin. “Let’s hear it, Sparkler!”

I gestured to Dorian, who continued, “ _ To my homeland, Tevinter! You lot wouldn’t be here without us! _ ” he bowed with flourish. “ _ Sorry about that _ ,” he added dryly.

“You can drink, Krem,” I explained, when he looked confused. “He toasted the land, not the people.”

“I got one!” Krem replied, after taking his drink. “Mr. Vice, I would like to propose a toast!”

“And what is the nature of the toast, Sergeant?”

“To _ uplifted horns _ !” he declared, gleefully.

“Dammit, Krem!” the Iron Bull complained.

“Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to  _ Avvar drinking habits, _ ” I ventured, hoping their resemblance to Vikings carried over into drinking horns.

“Alright, Pipes… Mr. Vice… I’ll allow it, but only if everyone tries the Akavit this round,” Varric laughed.

Krem dutifully passed Varric’s half-full flask around to everyone who had an empty cup, and then announced, “ _ To the Bull’s Chargers, the best damned mercenary troupe in Thedas _ !”

“To the Chargers!” everyone roared, passing the flask around the rest of the group. The Iron Bull grumbled, sniffing the flask but not drinking from it.

“You can hold onto it and try some in the next round, Tiny,” Varric offered. The Iron Bull grinned, holding the flask up to Varric in thanks.

“In that case, Mr. Vice, I’d like to propose a toast!” he replied.

“And what is the nature of the toast, Bull?” I grinned.

“To  _ hidden treasure _ ,” he replied. His grin looked like a cat contemplating a canary. Not so much satisfied as  _ hungry _ . What was this?

I blinked a few times. “I believe, Mr. President, that we have a toast to  _ Booty _ ?”

Varric laughed, “Tiny, remind me to introduce you to a certain Rivaini pirate.”

“If you mean who I think you mean, Varric, you  _ really _ don’t want that,” the Iron Bull warned darkly.

Varric cleared his throat. “Good point. Make your toast, then.”

Then the Iron Bull looked straight at Dorian and said something in what I could only assume was Tevene. Dorian turned  _ bright red _ .

Krem snorted, and rolled his eyes at his Chief.

Josephine gasped and put one hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, and exchanged looks with Leliana and Vivienne, who both looked  _ very _ amused.

Hawke looked speculatively to Varric, mouthing the words Bull had just spoken, tilting her head back and forth as if trying to remember something. Varric just shook his head, chuckling.

Solas had his usual Resting Elf Face at first, but when he looked up to meet my confused gaze, his eyes crinkled at the corners and his lip twitched.

Everyone else, like me, looked baffled.

“No fair, Bull. How do we know when to drink if we don’t understand the toast?”

“Just drink,” Krem assured me. “You don’t want to know what he said, I promise.”

“Oh  _ fine _ !” I replied, with an overdramatic roll of my eyes. “I’ll just get Bull to tell me later,” I said, shrugging cheerfully.

“But The Iron Bull, why would you want to-” Cole began, his head tilting to one side, only to have Dorian suddenly clap his hand over the spirit-boy’s mouth, turning an even brighter shade of red. Everyone laughed.

“ _ Fasta vass _ ,” Dorian muttered.

“I got one, I got one!” Sera announced drunkenly. “To  _ bottoms gone up _ !”

“I believe we have a toast to  _ empty glasses,  _ Mr. President,” I offered, ignoring the skipped step, and holding up my own cup for more mead.

“Sounds tragic. Isn’t Sergeant Krem supposed to address that?” Varric asked.

“Indeed he is!” I agreed, as Krem dutifully re-filled my cup with the sweet honey wine everyone knew I preferred.

“Well, with that resolved, let’s have Buttercup’s toast.”

“To  _ missing breeches _ !” she announced, gleefully.

I laughed and held up both arms, one hand holding my cup, “O-NEI ANTS-PAY!” I declared, toasting my household’s ridiculous motto, much to everyone’s confusion. Maybe I should teach everyone ‘Nug-Tevene’?

Cole laughed, delighted, and held up his own cup, “NO PANTS!” I guess there’s enough wistful pain attached to my memories of home for him to read that bit?

“See? No-Pants Fridays IS a cause!” the Iron Bull laughed.

\-----

“Ember… Mr. Vice, may I make a toast?” Cole asked, carefully.

“What is the nature of your toast, Cole?” I asked gently.

“It is… about  _ loving people _ ?” he replied, still uncertain.

“Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to the  _ wisdom of compassion.” _

“No, it’s not a toast about  _ me _ !” Cole interrupted, confused.

“It’s okay, Kid. Make your toast,” Varric reassured him.

“ _ To all my dear friends _ ,” Cole held up his glass with both hands. “ _ You remembered me _ !” he smiled, his expression the most hopeful I’d ever seen.

Of course, none of us could drink to a toast about us. Even Vivienne and Sera held their glasses still, though I suspect the latter was more confused than touched. I silently held my glass up to salute Cole, smiling. Most others followed suit.

“We love you too, Cole,” I replied, quietly.

Solas stood and cleared his throat. “Mr. Vice, I would like to make a toast.”

“And what is the nature of the toast?” I asked the elf, standing up straighter with my shoulders back, again affecting Victorian ceremony to the best of my tipsy ability.

“It is  _ a contemplation of what IS among the ruins of what once was _ ,” he replied solemnly.

I nodded and turned around to face Varric. Remembering a conversation between the elf and dwarf about the value of taking each day on its own merits despite past losses, I took a deep breath, and pronounced, “Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to  _ living for today _ .”

Varric nodded with equal solemnity and replied, “A worthy topic if there ever was one. Let us hear this toast.”

I turned back to Solas and nodded, “Please, make your toast, friend.”

Solas held up his glass, as if contemplating the flicker of flames reflected in the amber liquid it contained. Then he looked me in the eyes. “ _ To beauty and wisdom beyond all expectation. I have never before seen its like outside the Fade. _ ” 

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow at him, as everyone chanted, “ _ To Beauty and Wisdom _ !” and drank deeply.

“You shouldn’t drink, Ember,” Cole whispered to me much louder than he probably realized, though still hopefully lost in everyone else’s cheers. “He means you!”

I closed my eyes and scrunched up my nose, embarrassed. “I got that, Cole, thank you. But  _ technically _ he toasted concepts, not me, so I’m drinking!” I gave Solas an embarrassed sideways glance, and sipped my mead.

I would need to switch to tea soon. Hopefully Sera would be too drunk to notice.

As I looked up, Leliana caught my eye, smiling knowingly, and then Josephine leaned in to her whispering excitedly, and she nodded, still looking at me. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, the idea of everyone knowing we’d been flirting more lately. It’s not like we’d gotten anywhere with it yet.

Maybe it was just that I hadn’t had a chance to make up my mind yet, and didn’t like feeling pressured?

\-----

“Mr. Vice, I have a toast to offer,” Varric spoke up.

“Maker forbid!” I sighed in relief for the distraction, “What is your toast, Mr. President?”

“It is a toast to  _ friendly fire _ ,” he replied.

“You wish to toast  _ Solas’ coattails _ ?” I replied, amused, “By all means, ser.”

“ _ To redheaded heroines! We’d all be dead by now if not for you lot _ !”

Leliana laughed as Cassandra reached out a hand to stop her from drinking. I took the excuse to avoid getting any drunker. Hawke glared at the dwarf, pointing at him with one accusing finger.

“TO REDHEADS!” the Iron Bull roared, appreciatively. Everyone laughed.

“I have a toast!” Hawke declared firmly, still glaring at Varric.

“And what is the nature of your toast?” I grinned to her, conspiratorially. She caught my look and winked.

“It is a toast to the  _ paragons of vice _ ,” she replied, grinning wickedly.

“Mr. President, I believe we have a toast to _ desire demons _ ?”

“A dangerous choice,” Varric replied, raising an eyebrow at his best friend. “Alright, Hawke, let’s hear it.”

I nodded to Hawke, raising my glass expectantly.

“ _ To my Kirkwall crew! _ ” she declared, “Somehow, we survived that shithole, and lived to tell the tale!”

“That  _ beloved  _ shithole!” Varric corrected, chiming glasses with Hawke while they both avoided drinking.

“And you told the  _ shit _ out of that tale, Varric!” Cassandra asserted from across the room. Everyone laughed. Clearly our dear Seeker had found her cups!

Cullen looked at them both, smiling, but his eyes were pained. He lifted his glass to drink, but Hawke raised her hand to point at him, waggling a finger. His eyes widened with surprise.

“You were with us when it mattered most, Curly,” Varric agreed. Cullen's smile widened and he raised his glass to the two, without drinking.

\-----


	3. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a method to the Inquisitor's madness.

When I was certain everyone was sufficiently relaxed, and as-necessary, drunk, I raised a hand.

“For the ultimate toast, please switch to ale, wine, cider, or mead, and set the harder drinks aside,” I instructed. Once everyone had a fresh glass of something reasonable, I held up my glass, and waited for everyone to do the same.

_“To absent friends.”_ I took a sip, and nodded as the others did the same, quietly, and continued, “To the Ancestors, and Beloved Dead. To the Fallen, and the Lost. To Chancellor Roderick, and Seggritt, and Threnn.” I took another sip, and looked Cullen in the eye, nodding to him, “ _To Warden-Commander Clarel._ ”

He understood immediately, closed his eyes, and began reciting the names of the fallen, lost in Haven and Adamant, and Templars he had known, lost to Samson’s madness. The longer he spoke, the more choked he sounded. I moved to kneel behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Finally he could not speak any longer, and began sobbing openly. Cassandra moved to kneel in front of him, taking his hands, letting her own tears fall. Leliana took up the chant of names, her voice melodic and clear: “ _Divine Justinia - to Mother Dorothea_!”

She began alternating with Josephine and the Iron Bull, whose voice was much stronger and clearer than I expected. He’d apparently been sobering up a bit.

Hawke spoke quietly, shaking, face wet, but her voice still steady. “ _Malcolm, Carver, Leandra…_ ” Varric wrapped his arms around her, his face a grimace of tearless pain, and Hawke’s voice broke into quiet sobs.

Sera had curled up on herself, face screwed up in misery, crying silently. Dorian moved to her side, picked her up, and placed her gently on my bed.

Solas never spoke, but he closed his eyes in sorrow, lost somewhere within himself.

Cassandra began naming lost Seekers, prompting Vivienne to give names that I’d heard associated with the White Spire. Finally Vivienne spoke one name, firmly, above the droning murmur, “ _My dear Bastien_.” She raised her wineglass and emptied it, and then placed it gently on the side table. Catching my eye, she nodded solemnly to me, and then moved gracefully down the stairs. There were too many people here for her to feel safe breaking down, but it was clear she understood the purpose of the gathering.

I saw Cole’s feet rocking in my peripheral vision, and looked up to see the spirit holding his hands over his ears, and muttering. “ _Too loud, too much, too many, it hurts, it hurts, you all_ **_hurt_ ** _._ ”

“Focus on the names, Cole,” I instructed calmly, “We all have names to remember. Say them for us.”

Cole’s eyebrows knitted in concentration, and he began chanting names in unison with those who still spoke. He rose from the desk and moved to the front of the hearth, speaking names of the fallen with a calm, clear voice, pulling them from the minds of everyone in the room. Everyone else grew silent, except for muffled sobs, listening to the spirit of Compassion speak for them.

I started to rise, to join Cole by the fire, but Cullen pulled one hand out of Cassandra’s grasp and placed it over my hand, squeezing.

“I’ll be right back,” I assured him, “I need to show Cole how to finish the ceremony.” Cullen nodded and let my hand go. Cassandra moved to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Cole’s voice had settled into a melodic drone, as everyone grew too wrung out to remember more names. I took the mostly-empty bottle down from the mantle, and held it out to Cole, whispering instructions in his ear, _“Let them keep their memories, but gather the pain they are releasing, and pour it into this bottle. When it is done, put the cork in the bottle, and set it back on the mantle. I will show you what to do with the bottle when we are done here.”_ Cole nodded, and took the bottle. As he gestured, the air in the room grew lighter, and the sobbing subsided.

Hawke sighed as Varric kissed her forehead. Sera’s body relaxed into sleep. Solas took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Josephine and Leliana hugged each other, and the Iron Bull wrapped one arm around Krem, and the other around Dorian, drawing both of them in for a crushing hug.

I returned to Cullen on the floor with Cassandra, and held out my hands to him. He took both my hands, looking up into my face, his expression searching, hopeful. I smiled gently, a priestess smile, learned in service to Freyja, Chooser of the Slain, and pulled him up into an embrace.

Then I began to sing. It was a song by Cole Porter that I used at home for ending rituals, for encouraging everyone in attendance to let the ritual end, and let go of the gods and spirits and energies they are holding onto.

 

_“Every time we say goodbye, I die a little_

_Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little_

_Why the gods above me, who must be in the know_

_Think so little of me that they allow you to go_

 

_When you leave there’s such an air of spring about it_

_I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it_

_There’s no love song finer, but how strange the change_

_From major to minor, every time we say goodbye.”_

 

As I sang, I let calming energy fill the room, soothing to replace the pain Cole drew away, so they would not feel too empty. Once I finished singing, I looked to Cole, nodding, and he put the cork in the bottle, and placed it back on the mantle where it had been.

The Iron Bull rose from the desk chair, finally, surprisingly sober. He moved Krem and Dorian together, to hold each other up, and crossed the room to pick up Sera and carry her down the stairs, the two Tevinter men in his wake.

Leliana released Josephine, who began moving around the room, righting cushions and collecting plates. It seemed to be meditative for her, so I didn’t stop her. Leliana came over to where I stood with Cassandra and Cullen, and placed her hands on my and the Seeker’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “I will see you in the morning,” she said, quietly.

Varric helped Hawke rise from her seat, and they left together, Hawke’s arm around Varric’s shoulders, reminiscing quietly about old friends.

When the room was mostly empty, Solas rose from his seat, and moved to the Spirit. “Thank you, Cole,” he said simply. Cole’s smile was bright, his chest puffed in pride. Solas smiled back at the young man, and then to me, and he, too, departed. Cole joined the remaining three of us.

“Cullen, Cassandra, I’d like you to join me and Cole for this last part, please. The ritual is not quite over.” I stepped back from Cullen, to look up to his face for consent. He looked calmer, but exhausted. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded, and then looked up to meet my gaze.

Finally his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “I would be honored, Ember.”

“As would I,” Cassandra agreed.

“Wonderful,” I smiled, still in priestess mode. “Cole, please bring the bottle.”

I led the three of them down to the garden, where there was a small cairn in front of a tree.  It was well past midnight, and the moons were high, bathing the garden in silver light.

“Okay Cole, open the bottle, and pour the last of the contents over the stones at the base of the tree. Let the earth transform our sorrows into a celebration of memories to honor those who have passed on.” Cole looked at me for a moment, confused, his head tilted to one side as he watched my eyes. I let myself feel the shift in energy that I wanted him to perform. He raised his head, understanding, and moved to the cairn with the bottle.

I recited a prayer for the Ancestors as he worked.

 

_“Our mighty mothers here we honor_

_From womb to womb, since worlds’ beginning,_

_And fathers of the flesh and spirit_

_Sacred seed itself renewing,_

_And mindful mentors, wisdom winning_

_Sacred skalds and holy heroes,_

_And kind companions, comfort bringing_

_Faithful friends, and helping healers._

_All who lived and died before us,_

_Beloved dead, be with us always.”_

 

“That is a beautiful prayer, Ember. Did you learn it at home?” Cassandra asked.

“My mentor and I wrote it. She wrote the first version, and when I added to it later, she began using my version too.”

“I did not know you wrote prayers.”

“Oh, yeah. Many. Liturgical poetry and music are part of my job as a priestess. I’ve been writing a set of prayers to reflect on my experiences here with the Inquisition as well, but I didn’t want to offend anyone with them.”

“I would very much like to read them,” Cassandra said.

“As would I,” Cullen added.

“ _Remembering the pain reminds the love. Remembering hurts, but hurting heals._ This was good. May I keep it?” Cole asked, interrupting.

“The bottle?”

“The ritual.”

“Oh, sure, if you can use it well, I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you,” he replied, smile brilliant. The next moment he was gone.

We all just stood there in the garden for a moment. It felt like the conversation wasn’t quite done, that none of us were ready to part ways, but none of us were sure what to do next.

“I’m not really ready to sleep yet, and I could use a hand putting my room to rights first. Would either or both of you return to my suite with me?”

They both looked relieved at the request, and agreed immediately. We walked slowly back through the halls to my room.

“Um, so, yes,” I began again, “if you want to read my poetry, you’re welcome to it. Just, if I say something stupid, or blasphemous, please don’t be offended. I don’t know all of your theology, so the poetry is written from my own understanding. I… I can’t promise it will even make sense.”

“I can teach you more about our theology, if you like,” Cassandra offered.

“I would like that very much, thank you. Mother Giselle has taught me some, but I haven’t shared much of my past with her, beyond that I was not raised Andrastian, and she does not have time to go over much more than the basics with me.”

“Might I join you? We were taught a fair bit of theology in Templar training. Perhaps I could help.” Cullen asked.

“With Mother Giselle, or Cassandra?”

“Cassandra.”

I shrugged, looking to Cassandra, eyebrows raised.

“As we have time, certainly,” she agreed, “when we are in Skyhold, at least.”

“Ah, of course. Then I look forward to those you can share with me.” He seemed very pleased.

When we reached my room, we found that someone - Josephine, or perhaps she had sent one of the handmaids - had already put the room to rights, leaving some of the fruit and pastries in a basket on my desk, along with a fresh bottle of mead.

The fire had died down, so I settled in front of the hearth, stirring it back up and adding a log, gesturing for the two warriors to sit on the sofa behind me. I fetched three cups and a pitcher of water before settling down on the rug in front of the fire.

“I can never sleep immediately after that ceremony,” I explained. “It’s always really intense, and I’m always playing midwife to the grief, so it takes a while to let it all settle out. I’ve never actually run it without more experienced people before. I know I forgot a bunch of the rules and formal toasts. It doesn’t change the underlying nature of the ritual, though.”

“It was very effective,” Cullen said. “I’ve never seen drinking to grieve done so formally. I think it rather helps.”

“Especially for people like you, yes. I’m told that’s exactly what it was created for - to let the upright, always-in-control officer types let go enough to grieve those lost under their command. People like me, who cry really easily, don’t really need it so much. I don’t like to drink that much anyway. So I do it to take care of everybody else.”

“Well, thank you,” he replied, sincerely.

I smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me!”

“We should sleep,” Cassandra said. “We have meetings in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

We all stood up, and I offered them each a hug goodnight. Cullen embraced me without hesitation, but Cassandra seemed slightly more awkward. She’s still not used to hugging me, it seems. I was a little surprised Cullen was so comfortable with it this time, but he was pretty wrung out, and probably still tipsy.

As they moved towards the stairwell, I looked at my huge bed, and sighed audibly.

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked, pausing at the top of the stairs as Cassandra exited.

“Oh, nothing new. I just…I hate sleeping alone,” I admitted, frowning at my pillows. “Before I came here, it had been years since I’d slept for more than a night or two in an empty bed. It just feels _wrong_. Especially on days like today, to go from a room full of people I love to being totally alone...” I sighed again, turning to look at him. His expression was sympathetic. I blushed, suddenly flustered. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it. See you in the morning, Cullen.”

“We love you too, Ember,” Cullen replied, echoing my earlier words to Cole, before moving down the stairs. “Goodnight.”

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the story:  
> "Every Time We Say Goodbye" is a song by Cole Porter  
> The Ancestors' Prayer was written by Diana Paxson and Ember Cooke (me)


End file.
